He walked off 'ome with his 'ead up as high as 'e could hold it, and the
airs 'e used to give 'imself arter this was terrible for to behold. He
got 'is eldest boy to write a long letter to the squire about it, saying
that 'e'd overlook it this time, but 'e couldn't promise for the future.
Wot with Bob Pretty on one side and Squire Rockett on the other, them two
keepers' lives was 'ardly worth living.

Then the squire got a head-keeper named Cutts, a man as was said to know
more about the ways of poachers than they did themselves. He was said to
'ave cleared out all the poachers for miles round the place 'e came from,
and pheasants could walk into people's cottages and not be touched.

He was a sharp-looking man, tall and thin, with screwed-up eyes and a
little red beard. The second day 'e came 'e was up here at this 'ere
Cauliflower, having a pint o' beer and looking round at the chaps as he
talked to the landlord. The odd thing was that men who'd never taken a
hare or a pheasant in their lives could 'ardly meet 'is eye, while Bob
Pretty stared at 'im as if 'e was a wax-works.

"I 'ear you 'ad a little poaching in these parts afore I came," ses Mr.
Cutts to the landlord.

"I think I 'ave 'eard something o' the kind," ses the landlord, staring
over his 'ead with a far-away look in 'is eyes.

"You won't hear of much more," ses the keeper. "I've invented a new way
of catching the dirty rascals; afore I came 'ere I caught all the
poachers on three estates. I clear 'em out just like a ferret clears
out rats."